


Hasetsu

by Cbear2470



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Actor Victor Nikiforov, Alternate Universe - Notting Hill Fusion, Awkwardness, Comedy, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Skater Katsuki Yuuri, media
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 03:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20382904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cbear2470/pseuds/Cbear2470
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki is a figure skater, formerly Japan's ace, but currently washed back up in his hometown after his season ended early after some harsh losses that leave him considering retirement. Viktor Nikiforov, on the other hand, is currently one of the most successful actors in the world, and his career shows no signs of slowing down. When their two worlds collide in a series of chance encounters, Yuuri's life goes from mind-numbingly aimless to chaos as he's swept up into a life he never imagined for himself. But as their lives grow increasingly intertwined, Yuuri starts to find it's the similarities in their lives that scares him more than the differences as he starts to see himself in the limelight.





	Hasetsu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you want: Me to update my other fics!  
When do you want it: Probably like, last month, at the latest.  
What do you get instead: A really tropey AU where I avoid plotting by ripping off something that already conveniently has a plot that no one asked for.
> 
> But anyway, _Notting Hill_ is one of the trope-iest romantic comedies of all time, and the fact that there aren't at least 12 AU versions of it in every fandom is an insult to the world. (Although I do remember reading an YOI fic once where Yuuri worked in a bookstore and Viktor was an actor, which is a more direct _Notting Hill_ AU than this is, but they did not attribute that plot to _Notting Hill_ in any searchable way or have since deleted it, or I'm combining the plot of several different fics I read, so I'm pretending that I am entirely original.)
> 
> So I hope you enjoy, let me know what you think in the comments, or yell at me for wasting time I should have been spending on _Here Once and Back Again._

_Newcomer Shines in an Otherwise Lackluster New Miniseries_

_Casting Announced for Highly Anticipated _Ice_ Adaptation._

_V__iktor Nikiforov is “Shocked” by his Success in _Ice

_Viktor Nikiforov: Emerging Fashion Icon_

_Nikiforov’s Role in the Olympic Figure Skating Biopic that Had a 10 Minute Standing Ovation at Cannes_

_Inside Viktor Nikiforov’s Infamous Vanity Fair Cover_

_Viktor Nikiforov Lands $30 million Deal for Upcoming _Ice_ Sequel_

_BTS of this years most iconic Met Gala look with Viktor Nikiforov_

_Viktor Nikiforov becomes Highest Paid Man in Hollywood This Year_

_*_

Yuuri Katsuki was not unfamiliar with Viktor Nikiforov.

He’d seen all of his films. He occasionally read his cover stories whenever the actor was featured on a magazine. Sometimes he would watch clips of interviews. Sometimes for hours on an afternoon when he had nothing else to do. And he may also, occasionally, find himself scrolling through fan social media accounts. And also may have owned some merch from his films.

So, okay, it maybe was fair to say that he was even a bit of a fan. But he didn’t _run_ a fan account.

But like any fan, or well, perhaps unlike some, Yuuri assumed—hell, even fully imagined—Viktor Nikiforov lived in almost an entirely different world than Yuuri did.

Because even if they were both technically made of the same billion year old atoms, even if both their breath added carbon dioxide to the same atmosphere, even if they both had hearts that beat and bodies that were held down by the same laws of gravity and feet that walked on the same earth, the world of Viktor Nikiforov was, well, frankly fabulous.

And the world of Yuuri Katsuki was increasingly uninteresting.

For example, today he was loitering aimlessly in the lobby of the ice-skating rink in his tiny hometown of Hasetsu, Japan.

Loitering, because he was still too ashamed to even get on the ice in front of his childhood friend Yuuko, who managed the rink, Ice Castle, and was currently behind the rental counter, sharpening the blades of some rental skates.

And why exactly was Yuuri so ashamed? Well, it had entirely to do with that fact that a few months ago he had come in last during his first time in the Grand Prix Final, and then bombed out of nationals, and was now basically retired from the only career he’d ever known (although had barely ever made any money in) at the age of 23. And now he was washed up in his hometown, back in his childhood bedroom, without any idea of what he was going to do next.

Which was all to say, he was definitively and undeniably, a million miles, physically and metaphorically, from Viktor Nikiforov.

“Yuuri, do you think you could hold down the fort for an hour or so?” Yuuko asked, causing Yuuri to lurch upright from where he’d been in a pseudo-back bend, sliding slowly off a bench in the ice rinks lobby. “Takeshi got caught up helping a friend with some kind of emergency, and I need to go pick up the girls from school.”

“Um,” Yuuri said, getting up and going over to lean against the rental counter. “I’m not sure I’m qualified.”

“Look, let’s face it, no one is probably even going to come by,” she said. And she was probably right, unfortunately. Yuuri knew enrollment for classes was down, no one ever booked private rink time, people only really came to open skate hours on the weekends or holidays, if at all. “Maybe it would give you the opportunity to actually get out there. I know you’re never gonna get back on the ice as long as anyone is around. And I know you’ve been using your old key to come by at night sometimes. Takeshi has to do an extra Zamboni run in the mornings to resurface the ice.”

Yuuri blushed and ducked his head.

“I—” Yuuri said, although he wasn’t quite sure what to say. Because it’s not like it wasn’t untrue. But skating alone and skating for other people were very, often times in Yuuri’s case devastatingly, different things. Thankfully Yuuko cut him off with an eye roll before he could stammer too much more.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” she said, stepping out from behind the rental. “Try not to burn the place down, will you?”

Yuuri looked down at his feet, awkwardly.

“I won’t,” he muttered.

“Have fun!” she called as she pushed open the door of the main entrance, stepping through, and letting the door clang shut behind her.

Yuuri looked around the empty lobby, feeling rather helpless.

He shouldn’t actually skate.

It wasn’t even worth it.

He should be applying for jobs. Or emailing his coach to formally retire, since right now he was technically only on an off season break after his season ended early. He did have a college degree at least, he could do something with that. Or at the very least he could mentally prepare to formally let his family know that he could now help out at the onsen—his families business—full time and permanently.

At least, that was, for as long as his family still had their small hot springs resort. Hasetsu was dying economically, and his families hot spring was the last one left in town. The number of tourists that visited the town were decreasing every year. The only reason that Yuuri’s family was still in business was because as all the other hot springs closed, the remaining tourists were all filtered to their onsen.

If his family lost their business—well, Yuuri didn’t know what he would do. He probably would have to move to a bigger city and get a real job to send money back to his parents to fund their retirement. Or maybe Mari would buck up and take the responsibility in that, and Yuuri would, well—skate was the thing that came to mind.

But he wasn’t good enough to skate professionally anymore, it was increasingly evident. So that wasn’t really an option, was it? Maybe he could teach classes at Ice Castle. At least until that shut down too, perhaps.

With a sigh, Yuuri went to go dig out his skates from where he’d been “hiding” them in an old locker in the back corner of the rental skate storage room.

After his loss at the Grand Prix Final, and then again at Nationals, it had taken him a while to get back on the ice at all. In fact, he hadn’t been able to do it until after he’d returned to Japan from the US where he’d been training and going to school.

For a while, he’d been too devastated. But eventually, he’d gotten tired of being so… tired, and a fog somehow lifted in the way that it does sometimes—the way that things can feel impossible for days and days until suddenly one day, without reason, they’re not. And he’d gotten back on the ice.

Why he wasn’t sure. Maybe a part of him still hoped for a comeback. But more realistically, he was skating because it was all he knew. And it was his most effective coping mechanism.

Today, it was an old exhibition program. To music from the soundtrack of a Viktor Nikiforov movie, actually. Because okay, he definitely was a fan. Although the music was only in his head today.

Yuuri let himself get lost in the program though, letting it clear his mind in the way he had always wished it would in competition.

It was only an exhibition, and an exhibition from several seasons ago, so it certainly wasn’t an exceptionally challenging program. But there were no judges here. No audience at all, in fact. So, the difficulty of the program, the number of jumps he could or could not land, the level of the different elements he performed. None of that mattered now.

There was no pressure on Yuuri to preform to any kind of standard. And so, of course, he skated the program effortlessly.

But then as Yuuri neared the end of the program, rising up out of a sit spin—his rotations slowing—he caught sight of a figure standing at the edge of the rink.

The sound of Yuuri’s blades as he immediately ground to a halt was grating and violent.

Yuuri stood there, panting and with his eyes wide, as he stared at the stranger who didn’t look like a stranger at all.

“Oh, no, don’t stop on my behalf! That was amazing,” the man at the edge of the rink called out. “I’m sorry to disrupt you. I thought this was a public rink.”

Yuuri didn’t say anything.

“The website wasn’t in English, but Google offered to translate it and it said open skate was from 3 to 5 on weekdays,” the man continued. “Oh, wait, do you speak English? Sorry? Oh, dear, you can’t understand me, can you?”

Yuuri still did not say anything, but he did find himself sliding forwards on the ice—closer to the barrier and the man that stood there—almost unconsciously.

“Oh, um,” the man continued. “Gomen nasai, is that the right phrase? I, uh, wanted to skate,” the man continued, and, in what Yuuri assumed must have been an attempt to mime skating, spun in a circle, his arms folded across his chest.

At that moment, Yuuri bumped into the barrier, grasping the side to steady himself.

“Do you need to rent skates?” Yuuri asked.

The mans eyes widened.

“Oh, so you do speak English! And I just made a fool out of myself!”

Yuuri somehow managed to offer up a sympathetic smile.

“I would need skates, I mean, if I’m allowed to skate.”

“Sure,” Yuuri said. “Free skate does go until 5,” he said, pushing open the gate and stepping off the ice.

“Oh, sure!”

“Can you pass me the skate guards on that bench right there?” Yuuri pointed. The man looked a little surprised but turned around to look where Yuuri was pointing and handed the guards to Yuuri.

Yuuri slipped on the guards and started to make his way towards the lobby.

“Hey, you look a little familiar,” the man said. “Would I know you from somewhere?”

Yuuri could have laughed at the irony.

Instead he just did his best not to sputter.

“Uh, no, I can’t imagine you would.”

“Oh,” was all the man said in response.

“What size are you?” Yuuri asked as he made his way behind the counter.

“Oh, what’s the sizing in this country?”

_What a thing to think to ask, but not already know,_ Yuuri thought, as if it was some kind of grand symbol.

“It’s in centimeters.”

“Right, then 28, probably.”

“Do you want a toe pick?” Yuuri asked. “We have some hockey style blades as well.”

“Toe picks would be perfect, thanks.”

Yuuri turned around to go over to the racks the skates were stored on, looking for the right size, and then brought them back to the counter.

“How much?” the man asked as Yuuri slid the skates across the counter.

“Oh, 650 for the skate rental.”

The man smiled and passed Yuuri the money before taking the skates from the counter and walking over to go sit down on a bench to put them on.

Yuuri stood, hands unconsciously clenching and unclenching on the edge of the counter, and stared.

Then, catching himself staring, he shifted his gaze to the countertop, staring at it intensely. There were little specks of white in the pattern of the laminate. Yuuri started to count them.

“So, are you going to keep skating?” the man asked as Yuuri reached one-hundred and four. Yuuri looked back up quickly to see the man standing by the door that led back to the rink, skates now adorning his feet, his shoes, a pair of shining white sneakers that Yuuri recognized as being some kind of currently coveted brand, hanging from his fingers at his side.

It was now Yuuri realized how casually the man was dressed—sweatpants and a t-shirt, that was made to look more upscale thanks to a leather jacket and an overall sense of polish and perfection that dripped of the man.

“Oh, um,” Yuuri said. “No, I uh, have some work I should do. Enjoy.”

The man pursed his lips. They were slightly turned down.

“Well alright,” he said. “If you change your mind, you know where I’ll be.”

Yuuri nodded. “There’s some lockers inside to your left if you want to store your things there,” he said.

The man nodded and then he pushed through the doors back to the rink.

Once the door swung shut behind the man, Yuuri sunk down to the ground so he was sitting on the floor of the skate storage room, his back leaning up against the counter, his own skates still on his feet.

He curled his knees into his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

And then he stayed like that.

The only thing he could think was, _there is no way this is really happening._

_I’ve officially lost it. _

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, but eventually, a voice that was more familiar than it ever had been called out.

“Hello?”

Startled, Yuuri popped up from under the counter.

“Oh, there you are,” the man said, furrowing his brow but looking slightly amused. “It’s nearly 5, I best get going,” the man said, holding out the rental skates to Yuuri.

“Oh, um, of course,” Yuuri said, taking the skates. “No problem.”

“Well, thanks so much, it was a pleasure,” the man said. “Oh, and I realized why you look so familiar,” he said. “You’re Yuuri Katsuki, aren’t you? And that was your exhibition with that piece from the _Ice_ score, wasn’t it?” the man asked and Yuuri’s mouth fell open. “It was an honor to catch some of it in person,” he continued. “It was a real inspiration to me.”

Yuuri felt like he could have been hit by a truck.

“Anyway, see you,” the man said and then pushed out of the door and just as suddenly as he’d appeared into Yuuri’s life, he was gone.

Yuuri stood there behind the counter, the rental skates still in hand.

A few minutes later, or maybe more, Yuuri’s sense of reality felt so warped, the lobby door squeaked open and Yuuri saw Yuuko come in through it.

“So, did you survive?” she asked. “I see that nothing has been burned down or flooded.” But then she actually looked up to look at Yuuri, who was still catatonic, and took pause. “Yuuri? Are you alright?”

“You’ll never guess who was just here,” Yuuri found himself murmuring helplessly.

“Was it that man from the fish market? I’ve already told him that I’ve told the girls they aren’t allowed down there without an adult anymore. He must have better things to do than continue to come around to tell me about the time they tried to liberate all his prawns in the process of making some kind of YouTube video.”

“Um,” Yuuri said. “No. It wasn’t Mr. Akiyama. Uh, it was Viktor Nikiforov.”

Yuuko froze.

“What?” she said. “I must have misheard you. It sounded like you said Viktor Nikiforov.”

Yuuri nodded his head.

“And this isn’t some kind of weird joke?”

Yuuri just furrowed his brow. He hadn’t played a prank in his life, and Yuuko inevitably knew that.

“What’s he doing in Hasetsu, of all places?”

Yuuri shrugged, or tried to. Yuuko continued to talk, but he wasn’t really listening.

“Do you think he’s on vacation?” Yuuko asked. “Or I do you think they’re filming something nearby and he got very, very lost?”

“He knew who I am,” he whispered.

“Hm?” Yuuko said.

“He knew who I was. He’d seen my exhibition skate to the music from _Ice_,” Yuuri said.

“Oh,” Yuuko breathed. “That’s…”

Yuuri understood the feeling of the loss of words. He found himself unable to say much else either.

Instead, he could only look down at the skates that he was still clutching in his hand.

*

Yuuri went home, since it seemed about the only thing that could be done to try and move on from such a bizarre day. Yuuko’s triplets had come running into Ice Castle before he’d left, eagerly reporting on how Viktor Nikiforov was in Japan, having been spotted at the airport in Tokyo.

He could have stuck around to see if they’d turn over any other… context… for what had just happened to Yuuri. Or he could have told them, and inevitably ended up as a “source” on a gossip website—because while Yuuri didn’t run a Viktor Nikiforov fan account, the Nishigori triplets did. And it had enough followers for news like that to snowball quickly.

So he decided maybe that it was best some secrets stay secret. Or, at least be allowed to fade in his memory until in a decade or two he could no longer really know for sure if it was something that really happened, or a very vivid dream.

“Hello Yuuri!” his mother called as Yuuri walked into the resort. She was wiping down tables in the small restaurant that occupied the front of the inn that was attached to the hot springs. “How is Yuuko doing?”

Yuuri smiled. It was clearly forced, but his smiles were so often now a day it didn’t seem to give his mother any pause.

“She’s doing well,” Yuuri said. “The triplets are causing chaos wherever they go still, but she’s a professional at handling it.”

“Ah,” his mother said. “Those girls are going to do marvelous things one day, I’m sure,” she said.

Yuuri knew she meant it and believed it, and Yuuri probably wouldn’t argue. But then he also knew she’d once said similar things about Yuuri.

So, perhaps a sentiment to be taken with a grain of salt.

“I’ll have to invite them over to dinner the next time I see them. Or, you ask Yuuko the next time you see her for me, okay Yuuri?”

Yuuri nodded. “I think I’m going to go have a soak in the hot springs.”

His mother nodded and went back to cleaning.

A little while later, Yuuri sat at a bathing station, rinsing himself off before heading out to the spring, trying to make the metaphor of washing off a day as literal as possible.

Thankfully, although not in terms of his families prosperity, the hot springs seemed pretty empty and Yuuri was alone. He couldn’t see out to the springs properly to tell for sure, but there at least wasn’t anyone in the bathing area.

When he was finished, he grabbed his washcloth and stood up.

And immediately collided with someone.

“Oof!” someone called out, and then there was a loud slapping sound as a body collided with the tile floor.

“I’m sorry!” Yuuri cried out, but before he could do anything else, he recognized the man that was lying on the floor. Because, the man that was lying on the floor was none other than Viktor Nikiforov.

A very naked Viktor Nikiforov. Whose washcloth had been misplaced in the collision, none the less, meaning Yuuri had to leave nothing to the imagination.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri found himself gasping, switching to English. “Are you alright?” he gasped. “Here,” Yuuri said, handing Viktor his own washcloth, and then immediately realizing the horrible mistake he’d made as he became aware of his own nakedness.

Yuuri was often self-conscious about his body, but out of all the times to be seen naked, it had to be after a few months away from training and with his mother’s cooking.

But even in the best shape of his life, Yuuri never looked like Viktor Nikiforov.

If anything because Yuuri was at best a grower, while Viktor, evidently was not. But Yuuri wanted to stop thinking about—looking at (!)—that.

And to make matters worse, Viktor took the washcloth, but did not make to cover himself up.

So now they were in some kind of standstill, Yuuri too shocked to act, and instead they were both staring at each other. Naked.

But then, when Yuuri managed to shake himself out of it enough to look at Viktor’s face, instead of his everything else, Yuuri found that Viktor didn’t look shocked, or upset, or disgusted, as his eyes roamed uninhibitedly across Yuuri’s body.

And all Yuuri knew was that he needed to make it stop immediately.

“Here,” Yuuri said, bending down and holding out a hand. “Let me help you up.”

Which Viktor took. Something which as it happened Yuuri realized he was entirely unprepared for.

Because as Viktor pulled on his arm, instead of bracing himself to shift Viktor’s weight upwards, Yuuri was pulled downwards—his feet slipping out from under him on the damp floor.

And then suddenly, he was lying on top of Viktor Nikiforov. Both of them still naked, as Yuuri could not forget, in some kind of cliché romantic comedy-esque situation. And maybe that could have been comforting, if Yuuri remembered that Viktor had done nude scenes in movies before—although the tropey-ness of accidental comedic nudity was definitely beneath Viktor Nikiforov, who only occasionally shot very tasteful sex scenes. But Yuuri was not comforted remotely at all because Yuuri was not remotely interested in taking inventory on how close his genitals were to Viktor’s before he was scrambling off the other man and well, just as far away as he could get.

And then, once he was safely several feet away with his knees curled up to his chest in an attempt to conceal himself, he realized Viktor was laughing.

And Yuuri could only stare at the ground, trying very hard to not stare at Viktor, who seemed completely uninterested in covering himself.

“Alright, alright,” Viktor said as he tried to calm himself down. “Are you okay?”

Physically, probably. Emotionally, he was definitely scarred.

But none the less he let out a small, squawking, “Yes.”

“Okay then, how about this—I’ll close my eyes, and why don’t you go run and grab another towel, or robes or something. And then when you come back, we can try this all again.”

“Right,” Yuuri said. That sounded reasonable.

“Okay,” Viktor said. “My eyes are closed now.”

Yuuri chanced a glance in the other man’s direction. He was propped up on his elbows, and true to his word, his eyes were shut, and his head was tilted back a bit, and it was just overall unfair the way he looked.

So, Yuuri turned away, and went back to the locker room to see if he could find something to cover them with. A part of him thought about just getting dressed entirely himself, but it felt unfair to leave Viktor lying on the floor. So instead, Yuuri found some robes and put one on himself, tying the belt tightly, and carried the other one back to the bathing room for Viktor.

“Okay,” Yuuri said when he returned. “I’ve got you this time,” he said as he held out his hand.

Viktor opened his eyes and looked up at Yuuri, and the next second was reaching for his hand.

And it happened quickly—Viktor grabbing ahold of his hand, Yuuri pulling Viktor up, their grip lingering for a moment before Yuuri let go, the eye contact Viktor held fiercely the entire time—but it was still painfully intimate feeling.

Yuuri quickly looked away once Viktor seemed fully righted and handed him the robe, which Viktor thankfully took and shrugged on—although he tied his belt much more loosely in way that left his well-sculpted chest exposed.

“Ugh,” Viktor groaned, stretching out his back, now that he was upright again.

Yuuri felt a wave of numb panic as it occurred to him he very well could have injured Viktor Nikiforov.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I think I might have pulled a muscle in my back,” Viktor said. “I don’t think it’s too big a deal, it will probably be all right by tomorrow morning. I’m fairly resilient.”

As someone who regularly lied about the state of his body for the sake of not making a fuss, Yuuri was skeptical.

“Can I get you something for it? I probably have some pain medication somewhere, and I think I have some of those heat packs for muscle relief in my room, and some of those pain reliever gels that work well on muscles in my room.”

“Oh, are you staying here?” Viktor asked.

Yuuri furrowed his brow. “Um, no, I, uh, live here,” he admitted. “This is my families onsen.”

“Oh!” Viktor said. “How charming! I mean, if it’s no trouble then, maybe some kind of pain reliver could help speed up the healing process.”

Yuuri shrugged.

“I’m the one who knocked you down, so even if it was trouble,” he said with a shrug, and then immediately wondered if that was a horrible thing to say.

Viktor only laughed though.

“Okay!” he said, clapping his hands together and looking delighted in a way that Yuuri found entirely disarming. “Lead the way.”

“We should get dressed first,” Yuuri said.

“Oh, sure,” Viktor said. “Alright. If you insist.”

Yuuri wasn’t at all sure what that was supposed to mean, but he absolutely did insist. So it was with great urgency he hurried back to the locker room and got dressed as quickly as possible, ignoring Viktor all the while.

“I’ll wait by the door for you,” Yuuri called over his shoulder, not even checking to see if Viktor was done.

“I’ll only be a second,” Viktor called back, but Yuuri was already across the room towards the exit.

He wanted a minute to gather himself, but he barely got that much, because in less than a minute, Viktor appeared before him yet again.

“Alright,” Yuuri said. “Follow me.”

*

A little while later, Yuuri had navigated Viktor out of the hot springs and across the inn to the back quadrant of the inn where his family resided.

He’d done it with an element of stealth, which Viktor had seemed to have notice—not that Yuuri peering around corners and jumping at every noise didn’t make it obvious—but for some reason the other man only seemed amused.

Yuuri wasn’t quite sure who he was worried about running into. His parents obviously hadn’t recognized Viktor as anyone notable or hadn’t cared—both were possible, although with Yuuri in the US the past five years to train, it was very possible the last time they’d seen Viktor was when he had been in his early twenties and had long hair that he’d grown out for a period mini-series that he’d been in and overall had looked far more boyish. Back before he found success in _Ice_ franchise a few years later and his career skyrocketed, and he cut off his hair and gained a few kilos of muscle. So it was definitely likely they did not recognize him when they’d sold him entry.

Unless it had been his sister Mari that had done that. Then she would definitely know and would never leave him alone about it ever again.

So maybe he was hiding Viktor.

In all actuality, it was probably already a mistake having mentioned him to Yuuko.

If only he had mentioned it to no one, then maybe he could hide Viktor’s sudden presence in his life as if the man were some kind of apparition—something that would come and go in a way that warped all senses of reality.

“So,” Yuuri said as he pushed the door open into his bedroom. “Um, this is my room,” he said, and as he did was forced to look around the room that hadn’t had much of a redecoration since childhood, none the less five years ago, the last time he was home. “Um,” he stammered as he quickly tossed a throw blanket up over the stuffed poodle that was on his bed. “Don’t pay much attention to it, this is the first time I’ve been home in a few years,” he said.

“No, no, it’s great,” Viktor said, and it sounded like he meant it, even though he could easily have said the same thing and been being polite or sarcastic.

But then again, he was an actor. One of the best in the world.

And suddenly, Yuuri felt even more skittish.

It hadn’t occurred to him, somehow—Yuuri was usually known for his pessimism, that maybe Viktor was not to be trusted.

Quickly, Yuuri went over to his suitcase, which he still hadn’t entirely unpacked, and dug through to find the kit he kept of all the medications and wraps and balms that were helpful when you try to do things with your body like fling it through the air with enough force to spin it four times before landing on a knife on top of a sheet of ice.

Not that he was very successful at that particular maneuver.

“Um,” Yuuri said. “I’ve got some of this medicated gel stuff that you rub into your skin. It works wonders. And it’s American, so there are probably like, six things in it that are illegal everywhere else in the world because even if they’re super effective in the short term, in the long term they are likely to poison you.”

“That sounds good,” Viktor said, and Yuuri held out the tube.

“Could you actually help me rub it in?” Viktor asked. “I think trying to reach the spot would only make it worse.”

“Um,” was all Yuuri could say to that.

“Here,” Viktor said, and suddenly he had taken off his jacket, flinging it over Yuuri’s desk chair, and was pulling up the back of his shirt. “Just under the left shoulder blade.”

Yuuri, deciding that there was no good way out and the best way through it was to not give himself time to think too hard, quickly squirted some of the gel onto his hand and rubbed it into the spot Viktor had directed him to.

“Oo,” Viktor groaned and Yuuri tried very hard not the think about it. “Yeah, right there, feel free to apply a little pressure, if you don’t mind.”

Yuuri did as instructed and continued not to over analyze it. Or make any comparisons. To other things—

“Mm, perfect, that’s so good,” Viktor practically moaned.

Yuuri yanked his hand back.

“Um, I think that’s good,” he said.

Viktor let out a wistful sounding sigh.

“I suppose if I need a massage, I should go and get one, instead of conning you into doing it,” he said, and thankfully pulled down the back of his shirt so Yuuri didn’t have to look at it anymore. But then of course, instead he turned back around and made Yuuri look him in the eye. Which was probably worse. “Or maybe if it keeps bothering me, I’ll just have to come back for another soak,” he said with a wink.

Yuuri didn’t say anything to that.

“Well, I guess I should be heading out then,” Viktor said. “Thank you for all the hospitality. The hot springs were lovely. Just what I needed. And the skating, too. I’ve had a great day, and you seemed to be a large part of it, albeit by accident.”

“I tend to be a source of misfortune,” Yuuri mumbled, looking down.

“Oh no, no,” Viktor said, and then a hand tapped the underside of Yuuri’s chin, and Yuuri found himself tilting his head up to look Viktor, who had moved closer while Yuuri wasn’t watching him, dead in the eye. “I think I’ve been very lucky today. Do you not think so?”

Well, Yuuri supposed in the case of luck being a matter of odds, and in terms of things that happened to him today that were against incredible odds to have happened to him today, Yuuri was very lucky.

“I guess,” he said softly.

Viktor ran his thumb over Yuuri’s chin and Yuuri considered for a moment just giving in to the madness of it all—whatever that meant—because nothing that was happening made any sense.

But it was then that some kind of alarm went off.

“Oh,” Viktor said, pulling away from Yuuri and reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. “One sec,” he said. “Sorry, my assistant sets alarms to keep me on track when I’m out on my own because I tend to get… distracted,” he said. And Yuuri felt a little jolted by the reminder that this man, who technically had never even introduced himself, was actually the Viktor Nikiforov—the kind of man that had assistants. And also money, inevitably, to pay the assistants. The money bit was especially jarring. “She is inevitably right about that though,” he chuckled softly. “But I guess I do need to get going.”

“Right,” Yuuri said. “Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks for patching me up though,” Viktor said, although he didn’t move from where he was sitting on the edge of Yuuri’s bed. “It was lovely meeting you.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri said softly.

Viktor’s phone chimed again.

“Ah, and here she is, following up with a text to make sure I haven’t gotten into too much trouble.”

But when Viktor didn’t stand up still, Yuuri decided that he was going to have to make the first move.

“I can walk you out,” Yuuri said, going over to the bedroom door and pulling it open.

“Oh no,” Viktor said, finally standing up. “I can find my way out. Best not to dawdle too much more.”

“If you’re sure,” Yuuri said, his voice trailing off.

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” Viktor said. “Thanks, really, for everything today. This was the best day off I’ve had in ages.”

Yuuri smiled. It was still forced. Viktor definitely noticed.

“Okay, we’ll I’m off then,” Viktor said, stepping through the door frame.

“Bye,” Yuuri said, although it felt so incredibly stupid for some reason.

“See you,” Viktor said and after another moment of lingering and looking at Yuuri in some kind of strange way that left a feeling of some kind of of tension thick in the air, he finally turned and disappeared down the hallway.

And Yuuri shut the door once he was fully out of sight and sank down against it.

_What the heck, what the heck, what the heck,_ Yuuri found himself thinking again and again. _Shit._ _What was all of that? _

Then there was a knock on the door.

Yuuri flew up from the ground, startled, and opened it without a second thought.

And Viktor Nikiforov was standing there.

Again, there, in Yuuri’s life, somewhere where he wasn’t supposed to be.

“Sorry,” Viktor said. “I forgot my jacket. It’s a bit cold for April, isn’t it? Otherwise I might have left you with a rather expensive gift,” he said with half a smile that was as effective on Yuuri as a whole one.

“Oh, sure, right,” Yuuri said, spinning around to go and grab the jacket.

He walked back to where Viktor was standing and held out the jacket. Viktor put his hand on it but didn’t take it from Yuuri. Instead it just hovered between them, half held by each of them.

“Yuuri,” Viktor said, and Yuuri felt a strange tingly numbness go through his body.

“Yeah?” Yuuri said, although it was barely a whisper.

“Ah, to hell with it,” Viktor said, and before Yuuri had a chance to wonder what that meant, he found out.

Viktor leaned forward and pressed his lips against Yuuri’s.

And Yuuri, because the insanity and shock of it all officially short circuited his brain, kissed back.

And the jacket fell onto the floor as Viktor’s hand pulled at Yuuri’s hip to bring him closer, and Yuuri’s hand reached out to brush against Viktor’s chest.

Eventually though, Viktor was the one to pull away.

“I do really need to get going,” he said, panting slightly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Yuuri whispered.

“Oh, but I am very regretful.”

_What a thing to say_, Yuuri thought.

“It’s alright,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. You should get going.”

“Okay,” Viktor said. “Okay.”

Yuuri bent down to pick up the jacket.

“Don’t forget it this time,” Yuuri said, passing it to Viktor.

“But if I take it, I won’t have a reason to come back,” Viktor said with a smile, but he took it from Yuuri this time none-the-less.

“I doubt that would be realistic,” Yuuri said. “Really, don’t worry about it. Any of it.”

Viktor furrowed his brow but didn’t say anything.

“Can I have your number?” he asked, holding out his phone. “I don’t have a lot of free time, but…”

Yuuri couldn’t imagine ever seeing Viktor Nikiforov again after today, at least not face to face in real time. But if it got Viktor out the door and allowed him to wake up from this strange dream and go back to the slightly more night-mare-ish life that he deserved and made sense, then it couldn’t hurt.

“Sure,” Yuuri said, taking the phone and making himself a contact.

“Yuuri Katsuki, onsen klutz,” Viktor read once Yuuri handed the phone back. “You worried I won’t remember you without context, eh?” he said.

Yuuri said nothing, except for, “I think you better get going, I’m sure you have somewhere to be.”

Viktor sighed.

“Ah, practical are you,” he said. “We’d make a good pair.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri said, like a warning.

“Ah, so you do know who I am,” Viktor said. “I was wondering if I was being too pretentious in assuming.”

“Of course I know who you are,” Yuuri said. “Why you know me, I don’t know, but you’ve managed to make that mystery feel irrelevant.”

Viktor’s smile was victorious.

“For another day then, I’ll tell you,” he said.

Yuuri just shook his head, “Get out of here.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” he said.

And then, to Yuuri’s surprise at this point, he did.

Yuuri didn’t shut the door after him this time.

But once it was clear he wasn’t coming back, Yuuri collapsed onto his bed.

_Okay._

_That happened. _

_And now to get back on with life, as if it never did._


End file.
